


Bad Vibrations

by Solarcat



Category: Bandom, Jonas Brothers, The Academy Is...
Genre: D/s, Established Relationship, M/M, Semipublic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-23
Updated: 2010-07-23
Packaged: 2017-10-13 19:17:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solarcat/pseuds/Solarcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is lots of sex, a concert, and a remote-controlled, vibrating butt plug. Yes, this is exactly what you think it is. [For the Porn Battle X prompts <i>patience, stage, surprise, watching</i>.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Vibrations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allyndra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyndra/gifts).



It's the last show of the tour--the last show before hiatus, actually, because Nick is working on another side project and Joe finally got his first real movie role--and they got into town the night before, so Kevin, rather than being worried about making it to the venue in time for soundcheck, is splayed out on the bed in his hotel room, fingers curling in the sheets as Mike tongues his ass. They don't get to do this _nearly_ often enough; next time Kevin seriously needs to have a word with whoever arranges tour dates, because he hasn't seen Mike in almost two and a half months.

On the plus side, absence may or may not make the heart grow fonder, but it certainly makes Mike hornier. Kevin got fucked twice last night and, if the sound of the foil packet tearing is an indicator, he's about to get fucked again. He's not entirely sure if he's going to be able to _walk_ on stage tonight, let alone do any of the fancier choreography they've been doing for the tour, but as Mike bites his ass fondly before scooting up so he can nudge the head of his cock against Kevin's hole, pressing past the ring of tender flesh and groaning as he slides in all the way, Kevin doesn't actually _care_. He can tell his brothers he's tired.

"Fuck," Kevin hisses, and Mike laughs, sending shockwaves through him.

"I love when you swear," he says, kissing Kevin's spine right between his shoulderblades. Kevin cranes his neck so he can glare at Mike over his shoulder, and pushes back against him, driving his cock in deeper.

"Less talking, more fucking," Kevin demands. "I've got soundcheck in an hour and I need to wash my hair first."

Mike rolls his eyes. "Such a romantic." But Kevin doesn't have to ask again, because Mike's pulling nearly out of him and thrusting back in, even deeper, and Kevin braces his forearms against the headboard and cants his hips upward to just the right angle. Mike sort of _growls_ happily; Kevin grins into his arms for a moment before Mike starts fucking him for _real_ , hard and fast and just the way Kevin loves it. It doesn't take long before he's coming all over the sheets, feeling Mike shudder above him and tightening his grip on Kevin's hips as he fills the condom.

Once they've got something resembling their breath back, Mike kisses Kevin between the shoulderblades again and pulls out of him with a wet _pop_ , and oh, yeah, Kevin's going to be sore tonight. (So, so worth it!)

"Shower," he says, mostly to remind himself, because staying right here and cuddling with Mike for a few more hours is sounding like a really great idea; the concert can't be _that_ important. Except, it kind of is, and he won't be playing another show with his brothers for at least six months, so Kevin drags himself out of bed. Mike wolf-whistles as he pads over to the bathroom, moving slowly enough not to aggravate anything tender, and Kevin flips him off before going inside and turning on the shower. He can hear Mike's laughter over the sound of the spray, and it makes him smile.

Kevin washes quickly, ridding himself of the coating of sweat and semen he would once have blushed at, but now regards as a marker of a _really good night_. His hair doesn't take long at all since he's had it cut recently. (Mike pouted, but after _his_ little hair stunt, he doesn't get to complain and he knows it. Kevin it definitely making him grow it back out. Maybe. He actually can't decide, but the point stands.) He towels off quickly and walks back out into the room proper to find the clothes he's wearing to soundcheck--the stage outfits are already backstage--only to find Mike sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a weirdly shaped _something_ in his hands. Kevin is perhaps slightly distracted by how Mike's pulled his jeans on, zipped but unbuttoned so Kevin can see just a hint of hair. The Stay In Bed and Cuddle With Your Hotass Boyfriend plan is one Kevin seriously thinks of revisiting, right then.

"So I brought a surprise," Mike says, smirking, and Kevin wonders if this is a surprise like the time Mike showed up after their Valentine's Day concert with a long-stemmed rose and a jar of chocolate body paint. (Kevin is largely in favor of Mike's surprises.) He holds out the thing, and Kevin takes it gingerly. It looks a lot like a dildo (thanks to another one of Mike's surprises, Kevin is intimately familiar with a shocking variety of things one can do with a dildo), with the same wide base, but it's shaped more like a bulb; a thick, round body with a sharp taper at the tip. _Buttplug,_ Kevin's brain supplies finally, having at last tapped into the reserve of knowledge Kevin gained when he accidentally ended up at an online sex toy shop one time (and, er, _accidentally_ clicked around for a few minutes).

Mike has taken advantage of Kevin's examination of the plug to get around behind him and slide his arms around Kevin's waist. The brush of denim against Kevin's damp skin is extremely distracting.

"I want you to wear it tonight," Mike whispers in his ear, and Kevin shivers. "During the show."

Kevin's eyes widen and he licks his lips reflexively. The thought of doing that... of having this thing in him, stretching him while he's up in front of all those fans, none of them having any idea... Kevin shivers again.

"Okay," he says, and Mike squeezes him tightly around the middle, pulling Kevin flush against his chest.

"Hands on the desk," Mike tells him, "Legs apart." Kevin's dick twitches a little as he obeys, and as he hears the snap of the lube being opened.

"Good boy," Mike tells him, petting his hip with one hand as he opens Kevin up with two lubed fingers. He's still loose from before, but his hole is swollen and tender, and even with the lubrication, Mike's calluses are rough. Kevin lets his head hang as he grips the edge of the desk and wills himself not to get another hard-on he won't have time to deal with before he has to be downstairs at the car. The plug, when it comes to replace Mike's fingers, is cool and smooth, but nearly as wide as Mike's cock. The base of it nestles between Kevin's cheeks, strange and foreign.

Kevin's still getting used to the feeling of it as Mike throws him his pants. Getting dressed is interesting; the plug feels less strange but still not natural, and it's nearly impossible for Kevin to ignore its presence for even a second. Every time he moves it brushes against his insides, forces his muscles to stretch differently to accommodate its girth.

"I've got one more surprise," Mike says, his knees bracketing Kevin's hips as Kevin sits down to pull on his shoes. The mattress dips enough that Kevin is sort of worried about sliding off.

"Hmm?" Kevin turns his head to look at Mike as he finishes with his shoes. Mike slides a hand around Kevin's body so Kevin can see what he's holding. It's a small plastic box, with a sliding switch and three little hash marks.

"What is it?" Kevin asks, because okay, it's obviously a switch, but what--Mike pushes the slider up to the first hash mark, and Kevin jerks with surprise and very nearly falls off the bed as the plug in his ass starts vibrating. _Oh._

"Works up to fifty yards," Mike smirks at him, and Kevin doesn't need to do any math to know that the VIP section at the concert that night is way, way closer to the stage than fifty yards. "Better get to soundcheck," Mike reminds him, sounding pleased with himself as he switches the _vibrating_ plug off again.

Kevin isn't sure whether he loves or hates Mike for this, but either way, he's not sure he's going to get through this night without supremely embarrassing himself somehow. Then again, Mike could be exaggerating about the distance, trying to get Kevin flustered. That's probably it.

When the plug starts vibrating again as he waits at the elevators (which are at precisely the opposite end of the long hallway from his room), Kevin realizes he's in big, big trouble.

~*~

Soundcheck goes off without a hitch, though Kevin spends the first half of it trying to figure out how to move without _looking_ like he's trying to figure out how to move. Joe raises an eyebrow at him a couple of times, but by the time they're passing their instruments off to the techs and heading off stage to let them set up for the first opener, Kevin thinks he's got it down.

There are two interviews set up for the intervening hours, and Kevin manages not to say or do anything too out of the ordinary. Thanks to the TV show, enough people expect him to be flighty and easily distracted; there's no way anyone would attribute his completely ridiculous answers (really, what had possessed him to say _peanut butter?_ ) to the fact that there's a sex toy rubbing against his prostate every time he shifts in his seat. The erection is harder-- _ha_ \--to cover up, but he watched Joe and Nick both handle that sort of thing all through their awkward teenage years, so he knows how to slouch.

He changes into his stage outfit with his back to his brothers. Not that inconvenient hard-ons are an unknown quantity, but he doesn't really want to try to explain this one, given that the day has been fairly boring and the only people he's been around since he left the hotel are his brothers, Big Rob, and the usual cadre of techs and press and photographers. Through sheer willpower, standing very still, and lots of imagining what the pictures will look like once Perez gets through with them, he eventually manages to get it to subside by the time the first opening band finishes their set. They're touring with Demi this time, and her set is next, so there's still some time. Kevin uses his few free minutes to find a way to peek at the audience. As expected, Mike is slouching at the back of the VIP area inside the barriers, instantly recognizable by the fact that he's wearing a hoodie along with shorts and flip-flops, in _August_. He's got his hands stuffed in the kangaroo pouch, and Kevin's mouth goes dry because he just _knows_ that's where Mike's got the remote.

Demi's set goes on forever and not long enough, and then the techs are hustling around in the semi-darkness and the lights are going up and he's got his guitar slung across his hips, _thank God_.

Being on stage is natural and easy, and Kevin's been playing this set list almost every night for months now. By the time they hit the chorus of "World War III", Kevin is fully in concert mode, moving on instinct. And that, of course, is when the plug starts vibrating. He fumbles a chord, and Joe shoots him a worried look. He nods back as subtly as he can in the middle of the show, given that what he _wants_ to do is give in to the shivers that are running up his spine. When he glances over at the VIP section, Mike is right up at the front, near enough that Kevin can see his face clearly. He's grinning, cat-who-ate-the-cream, and Kevin can all-too-easily imagine the things Mike is planning. It's actually more of a turn-on than the way the plug is buzzing against his skin. His efforts to contain his arousal earlier are shot all to hell by the time he plays the opening chords to "Burnin' Up"; he's hard in his too-tight stage jeans, and then he sees Mike smirk and the image of those three little hash marks flashes in his head as the vibration gets stronger. _Fuck._

As the song winds down and they fade into the next, the vibration lessens, then stops. Kevin has to swap guitars, and he does so as fast as he can, keeping his back to the audience. Mike is still smirking up at him, and the plug buzzes for a few short seconds before stopping. And then does it again. There's a longer pause, and then another buzz, and Kevin is glad he's played this song about a million times because his fingers remember the chords even when he's completely distracted, waiting for the next jolt of pleasure to spike up his nerves. When he looks over at Mike again, Mike exaggeratedly raises an eyebrow, so Kevin can see it clearly from the stage, and turns the vibration up to the second level for a brief second, enough to make Kevin's hips jerk. (Thank _God_ for his guitar!)

Mike is _playing_. The realization is enough to make Kevin's cock twitch, and he can feel his pre-come soaking through his underwear. It's a game, but Kevin doesn't know the rules. There's another pulse, and _fuck_ , if Mike doesn't stop it Kevin's going to come in his pants in front of fifty thousand people, which is... the game.

 _You're on,_ Kevin thinks, smiling viciously to himself and taking a deep breath at the same time. There's a long buzz, which means Mike has figured out that Kevin has figured it out, but despite the way his cock is aching and the wet spot on his jeans is spreading, he keeps himself steady and focuses on the notes he's playing. Kevin's next guitar swap is even faster, and the tech is looking at him strangely, but luckily doesn't seem to notice the way Kevin's hard-on is clearly outlined, trapped in too-tight jeans. Mike has upped the ante, leaving the plug on the lowest vibration setting _all the time_ , and they're only a little more than halfway through their set. Kevin is going to _die_ if he doesn't come soon, but he's not going to give up that easily.

"You okay?" Joe asks through their private mics, and Kevin nods at him and Nick and keeps his voice as steady as he can when he says, "I'm good. Let's just finish this." Even the way his guitar is sliding over his hips is driving him crazy, and he knows he's red-faced and sweating more than usual. Mike, when Kevin's resolve crumbles enough to look at him, is still watching from the front of the VIP section, but his smirk is less evil and expectant and more the look he gets when he has Kevin spread out on the bed, begging for his cock. Kevin looks away quickly, because that look is _not helping_.

Kevin hasn't concentrated so hard on his actual _playing_ in ages, and he knows the guitar sounds _fantastic_ tonight (aside from an occasional dropped note, but even Kevin's best concentration isn't good enough to stand up to the way Mike flicks the switch in precise counterpoint to the beat). Within two songs, though, Mike has turned the switch up to the second level and doesn't seem to be considering lowering it again. Kevin is breathing hard--sharp, shuddering breaths--and he can barely see straight anymore. His dick hurts and his balls are aching and he almost wants to cry from the frustration of it, but he keeps repeating _not yet not yet not yet_ over and over in his head.

Mike flips the switch up to the third level as Joe announces their last song of the night, to groans and calls of disappointment from the audience. It really _is_ their last song, luckily, because Kevin only barely makes it through, improvising a chord in the bridge when he just _can't remember_. It's like all his joints are turning to jelly, and the only thing he can think about is getting through to the end of the song. Then it's done, the final notes still echoing in the amps, and Joe and Nick's voices wishing everyone a great night and a final thank-you for being there. Kevin waits just barely long enough for his exit not to be considered running off stage, but he has to get his hands on his cock _right the fuck now_.

The vibration stays steady even as Kevin rushes backstage toward the dressing rooms, keeping his guitar with him as a shield as he passes the bewildered techs. Mike takes another route backstage from the VIP area, his pass dangling around his neck as he meets Kevin in the hallway.

"Fuck," Mike breathes, looking at him with dark, heavy-lidded eyes. He doesn't flip the switch off, though. Instead, he pulls Kevin's guitar strap over his head and passes the instrument to the nearest tech, who looks surprised but is quickly glared into action, taking the guitar up to the _actual_ guitar techs. Then Mike manhandles Kevin around the corner and through a door. It's the men's room, a one-person affair with, God yes, a locking door that Mike shoves him up against as soon as they're in the room.

The plug is still vibrating in Kevin's ass, and it's all he can do to grip Mike's arm and choke out, " _Please!_ " Mike drops to his knees on the semi-clean tile, tearing Kevin's jeans open. Without Mike in the way, Kevin can see himself in the mirror over the sink. He looks _wrecked_ , his hair limp and sweaty, face red and pupils blown wide. Mike swallows Kevin's cock in one smooth movement, but Kevin's not even sure if it counts as a blowjob--he's coming almost as soon as Mike's lips wrap around the head, stuffing his own fist in his mouth to stifle his yell. It feels like he's spilling a gallon of come down Mike's throat; he can't ever remember coming this hard, fuck; and then he's sliding bonelessly down to the floor as his knees give out.

"Can you stand up?" Mike asks him after a minute or so, helping him to his feet before Kevin can put himself back together enough to reply. Mike turned the vibration off at some point (Kevin might have blacked out for a few seconds) but the plug is still there. Mike turns him around gently, so Kevin can brace himself against the wall as Mike spreads his legs and slowly removes it. Kevin sighs as the thick bulb stretches him open; his muscles are all loose and easy, and he purrs as Mike slips two fingers inside.

"I brought a condom," Mike says, kissing the side of Kevin's neck right below his ear. Kevin's all but fucked out already, a sleepy feeling of contentment settling over him in the wake of maybe the best orgasm he's ever had, so he just arches his back in invitation and says, "Yeah."

Kevin's whines at losing Mike's fingers, but the rasp of his zipper and the sound of the foil packet tearing follow soon after, and then Mike's sliding into him, fucking Kevin against the wall with surprising tenderness.

"You looked so hot up there," Mike tells him, leaning his forehead against Kevin's shoulder. "So fucking hot for me."

"Mmm. Always." There's no way he can get it up again this quickly, but Kevin relaxes into the familiarity of Mike's cock filling him up, Mike's body warm against his. Mike doesn't last long either; Kevin can feel his cock twitching as he comes, the dead weight of him pressing Kevin to the wall.

"You're evil, you know," Kevin informs him once he's had a second to recover.

"You love me," Mike says, and Kevin can't actually argue with that. Mike ties off the condom and throws it in the trash, then picks up the plug from where it was abandoned on the floor. Kevin makes a face at it while he pulls up his jeans.

"Make sure you disinfect that," he says, and Mike gets a disturbingly familiar gleam in his eye.

"Does that mean we'll be using it again?" he asks playfully, and Kevin punches him in the arm, for all the good it'll do.

"Maybe," he hedges, and Mike grins as he rinses the thing off in the sink and dries it with a paper towel before making it disappear into his hoodie. Then he steps over and pulls Kevin in for a long and immensely satisfying kiss.

"See you back at the hotel," Mike says, and Kevin kisses him one more time for good measure.

"About an hour? Maybe two?" Kevin estimates.

"'Kay," Mike says, opening the door a crack to check that the coast is clear, and then he's slipping away. Kevin gives it a minute before exiting himself, then hurries over to the dressing room before anyone can get a very good look at him. He's glad he has an extra pair of jeans.

 _Fin._


End file.
